Comics Journal Navel Gazing: A Short Comment

Caro recently highlighted an article by Craig Fischer at Transatlantica titled “Worlds within Worlds: Audiences, Jargon, and North American Comics Discourse”. I’ve decided to separate out this short comment on one particular section of Craig’s essay since it is only tangentially related to the bulk of Caro’s comments. The following comes from the middle of Craig’s taxonomy of comics writing called, “Essayists” (emphasis mine):

22 As a contributor to the Journal, my problem with Groth’s emphasis on evaluation is the absence of communal standards. In the editorial to Journal#100 (July 1985), Groth reprinted a commentary from the British fanzine BEM where Bernard Leak pointed out that despite the Journal’s commitment to excellence, “muscular standards-raising activity requires some kind of focus, some general agreement on what a good comic is; and there isn’t any such agreement, in the pages of the Journal or anywhere else” (Groth 12). Leak further argued that

“A general theory of comics, such as has been produced (in many conflicting forms, of course) for literary genres like novels and epics, is necessary before any dreams for the future can take on a definite shape and positive content. If someone doesn’t like any particular theory, he can supplement, modify or replace it; but until one appears all criticism of comics will be floating in the void, unsupported by anything more than a consensus of some readers’ uncontrolled intuitions. (12)”

23 Hindsight is 20/20: the quality of American comics has risen since 1985, but Fantagraphics’ aggressive publishing and promotion of artists like Chris Ware and Joe Sacco had more to do with the rise of the graphic novel than any theoretical consolidation in the Journal. Over a decade later, in his editorial for Journal #200, Groth can only define comics criticism in amorphous terms: “In order to truly appreciate art, you need enough distance to stand outside of it, but not so far outside as to make yourself remote from its particular beauty. It has to touch you impersonally. (Get too close and you’ll start crying at Love Story.)” (6). I love the Journal and I’m grateful for the chances I’ve had to publish there, but I also lament that transformative interpretive concepts haven’t arisen from its pages in the same way that la politique des auteurs emerged from Cahiers du cinema to influence the broader culture. Given Groth’s hatred for academia, it’s ironic that the Journal is in the same situation as Witek sees in academic comics writing: in a theoretical vacuum, without a tradition of scholarship to tap into and develop.

The statements by Leak (para 22) have lost something through the passage of years. Without referring to article in question, I suspect that it has something to do with the early years of struggle and that process of stumbling in the dark; that mish mash of elitism and fawning which characterized the early years of the Journal, and which still exist within the most erudite sections of the comics blogosphere today (the subjects are different, the attitudes are not).

The idea that a “general theory of comics” (not, I should add, Understanding Comics or The System of Comics) could emerge from the hand of a single person and be immediately accepted by one and all like scientific fact would appear to be wishful thinking. It is borderline delusional to think that such a theory would lead to the systematic elevation of critical standards. Rather, what would have been required would have been a kind of editorial fascism (or suicide depending on your point of view) that would probably have nipped the magazine in the bud. Being the only viable and clearly audible voice during the period under discussion, the Journal represented comics criticism in its “adult” incarnation in toto. Any such concretization of standards might have stifled its most important and now largely satisfied mission.

Having said this, I doubt if Leaks’ statement was a call for a very specific and narrow aesthetic in comics. If it was, it was misplaced considering the period when it was published, a period characterized by the production and appreciation of infantile narratives and ideas.As such, I find Craig’s suggestion that “Groth can only define comics criticism in amorphous terms” largely unconvincing, since the quoted statement appears to be an intentionally vague statement on aesthetic appreciation. It would be fairer to say that The Comics Journal‘s mission has been largely consistent but broad over the years, a necessary “evil” in view of the dearth of committed writers, the lack of avenues for such writing and the stage of development of the art form during the Journal‘s heyday. The rise of online criticism is an opportunity for new and more specific approaches; hopefully ones which will not revert to the “If it wasn’t of any value you will not choose it” position of fandom and myopic scholarship.

Craig’s “lament that transformative interpretive concepts haven’t arisen from [the Journal‘s] pages in the same way that la politique des auteurs emerged from Cahiers du cinema to influence the broader culture” is quite reasonable but neglects to remind us that the Journal stood no chance of this ever happening however insightful or elevated its editorial position. The primacy of film culture during the twentieth century was a vital part of auteur theory gaining purchase in that “broader culture”. Till this day, there is perhaps no art form with less respectability (unless you include video games) and cultural cachet than comics.

The Journal was always at the service of comics and cartoonists. A more vibrant and commercially viable art form would have encouraged different voices and approaches but this was not to be, just one of the unfortunate aspects of being a comics enthusiast on the cusp of a period of evolution. The magazine cultivated the potential audience for alternatives; it refined their tastes and introduced them to new ways of thinking about specific comics. Thus encouraged, these readers began to look for and demand more from the form. A corresponding effect might be found in a statement in Vasari ‘s Lives of the Artists, here quoted and elaborated upon by Kenneth Clark in his popular history of Western European art:

“The Renaissance historian of art, Vasari, when he asked himself (characteristically) why it in Florence and not elsewhere that men became perfect in the arts, gave as his first answer: ‘The spirit of criticism: the air of Florence making minds naturally free, and not content with mediocrity [but leading them to value works for their beauty and other good qualities rather than for their authors].’ And this harsh, outspoken competition between Florentine craftsmen not only screwed up technical standards, but also meant that there was no gap of incomprehension between the intelligent patron and the artist. Our contemporary attitude of pretending to understand works of art in order not to appear philistines would have seemed absurd to Florentines.”

The general impression of The Comics Journal as some kind of monolithic entity with a single hive mind (especially during the 80s and 90s) also seems to run counter to Leak’s argument in his first quoted statement. While such an impression of the Journal is undoubtedly false, it does suggest that some arguable standard did emerge from the chaos of those times. It is a standard which emanated from the contest of ideas, and the paucity (and poverty) of such conflicts in comics today is symptomatic of the dearth of new thinking. Similarly, the lack of engagement with the “new” and controversial has retarded the distillation of a host of standards in present day comics criticism. The suggestion that there should be some “general agreement on what a good comics is” (a “communal standard”) sounds worthy but is absolutely poisonous to any art form. Whatever my feelings on the subject, this embalming of taste and standards has made some inroads as far as comics is concerned; such has been the power of the Journal‘s “voice” over the years, at least as far as alternative comics are concerned. Considering the stature of the magazine in American comics, it was perhaps an inevitability.

Hmmm…reading it again, perhaps you’re right. Maybe both Understanding Comics and The System of Comics *are* the types of theories Leak is asking for. He does seem to imply a rather low bar for any such “general theory” and I get the impression that he wants it to be comprehensive more than anything else. I was responding more to his hopes and dreams for such a theory which clearly haven’t been realized even with the enormously popular but flawed UC. I’ve seen UC reviewed and used in scholarly papers, and it’s constantly used to introduce newbies to the mechanics of comics, but its real effect on cartooning and English language comics criticism is remarkably low. I can’t think of very many important pieces of criticism (not directly related to it) which have used it at length.

Before its publication in English, I was led to believe that The System of Comics was a key work in European comics studies. It may in fact be just that but it’s reception in America has been shocking in its lack of enthusiasm, and I don’t think it has anything to do with its jargon or supposed difficulty. I think it was designed to be read by interested laymen as well as academics. What I get from Rifas’ complaint is not simply that the book is “tough” and “dry” (I disagree, I’ve read far worse) but that the book as a whole didn’t present a host of new ideas beyond its methodology. I’ve been waiting for an English language reviewer to fully enunciate its greatness but even a strong supporter like Domingos seems to be more interested in Groensteen’s close readings, which are in fact entertaining though I think they suffer from a lack of illustration if I remember correctly. I also think it stumbles badly at the start on definitional issues which were mentioned earlier this year by Noah; more questions and uncertainties than answers and firm propositions (things to “argue” with). I was happy to read the part of Craig’s essay where he points out the interesting point (derived from the book) that “the smallest unit of signification, the panel, can connect and rhyme with larger structures like the tier, the page, the double-spread, and even the “multiframe” of the entire comic or book”, but this seems to be an isolated point that could be easily derived from a close reading of the comics of Alan Moore (From Hell for example). Is this any more glorious than Frank Santoro’s recent blog postings on the comics grid (which doesn’t appear to be a general theory of comics)? Has the book as a whole affected the way you think about comics, Caro? Or is it more of a linguistic tool, bringing comics studies into a conversation with semiotics/semioticians?

All of this has nothing to do with what Leak was asking for in that article. He wanted a general/universal theory of comics and he/we got it less than 10 years after he wrote those sentences. A pity it has had so little effect at the highest levels of comics thinking.

Definitely a tool bringing comics studies into conversation — but when I read it I’d read very very few comics. I read it for the semiotics and was thinking about how it would apply to other artifacts that had text and image and used image signification, so I was constantly moving from his examples out to more general things rather than the other way, from his examples to a greater number of specific examples. I was obviously immensely pleased that he started from Benveniste which I thought was a really effective choice, but which I think has been criticized.

I think maybe it doesn’t have a nice elegant encapsulation of the theory anywhere. A lot of times really good theory books in literature and history will have these logical diagrams or schematics that connect the dots among all the theoretical elements. There’s not really a pithy summation of the thesis: it’s more piecemeal.

But I’m still surprised that it’s gotten so little attention — I’ve got no hypotheses about why that is the case, though. It seems like a lot of comics people find it boring, but they might find it boring because they’re just not interested in the kinds of things you do with a theory like that, so that’s kind of circular.

Noah: It’s a reference to the line used by Ana Merino when she encountered resistance from Gary Groth (re: academia/scholarship) in an interview printed in the Internal Journal of Comic Art. Quoted by Craig twice in the article at Transatlantica.

Caro: I think Groensteen did a pretty reasonable job of summarizing his thesis in the introduction to the book but you would know better than I if it was sufficiently “elegant” in its stating. You’re much more experienced in this area. Similarly, Craig probably has the inside track on why the book was rejected (for the most part) by American comics scholars. So tough, boring and alien might be the answer. But the book is clearly designed for semiotic newbies like me. He rarely uses undefined concepts and always takes care to hold the reader by the hand as he traverses the connections between comics and semiotics. The close readings are nice and easy to decipher, and there’s even a short (and simplified) explanation of the whole debate you and Andrei just had in your last posting. It seems like a good primer for this approach to comics. I can see how you and Andrei could get “bored” with it considering your advanced level of understanding but it’s just right for me.

Fine post Suat, I agree with your sentiments almost entirely. To me, however, the criticism of the Journal is not only unfair, but quite wrong: I think Groth’s critical voice, and of course — as Craig also points out — editorial choices have shaped the way of thinking about comics as art in the US more than just about anything else outside the works themselve. TCJ and Fantagraphics have been incredibly influential for such a small operation.

As for System, I would agree with you. The methodology is new in an Anglo-Saxon context, but the insights are fairly pedestrian and the terminology abrasive. I think the single best concept Groensteen introduces is the concept of “braiding”, i.e. the spatio-temporal structuring of the work as a whole, potentially independently of the narrative. The main weakness as I remember it, is the choice of the panel as the basic building block, which strikes me as arbitrary and limiting.

Oh, and I thought that the introduction, including the discussion of definitions, was quite brilliant, written with the verve and insight Groensteen has become known for since.

What’s really promising however is that he is apparently in the process of reworking the book, which was his Ph.D. dissertation and and shows it, into a bigger and almost certainly more satisfying book. (At least that’s what I’ve heard; I may be wrong).

He doesn’t choose the panel as a basic building block–He refuses the debate about identifying a single building block. He focuses on the “system” as a whole–with diff. elements being important or un- in various circumstances.

My sense is not that American academics have rejected Groensteen. His ideas, like others, are thrown into the big pot to work with. I quite like Groensteen for what he is–a structuralist/semiotician who breaks the system into its constituent parts. I’ve always liked this kind of criticism as a helpful means to other ends–not, perhaps, as an end in itself.

If there’ some hesitancy to make Groensteen the standard-bearer of comics studies (where, I guess, McCloud has occupied pride of place, somewhat embarrassingly), I would say that this is as a result that various humanities discipline tend to want to focus on ideology/politics of various kinds of texts—Groensteen’s near-total avoidance of that kind of approach may make him less palatable to many. Many of his examples are in untranslated French, as well–which is bad of monoglot Americans (of which there are many, including myself). McCloud’s not political either, of course (or not intentionally so), but he’s much easier to read and attack, which is part of the game, of course.

It’s a good book, though–very useful, if not exactly breezily written (or translated).

As I remember it, and it has been about 6 years, he expresses awareness that one cannot reduce a system to distinct building blocks, but nevertheless goes ahead and assumes that privilege for the panel. Am I wrong?

I’ve heard criticism of the translation; in French it is a fairly accessible, though certainly not breezy, read.

I don’t think that you are wrong Matthias. And that’s exactly my problem with the book (as wrote in another comment in another thread): Groensteen says that no definition of comics is possible (“l’impossible definition”) and, then, he finds one (“la solidarité iconique”); he says, quoting Benveniste, that visual arts don’t reproduce the language (“langue”) model (he does this in a part of the intro titled “L’inutile dispute des unités signifiantes,” but,then, he comes up with a minimal “unité signifiante,” the panel.

As for TCJ I’m repeating myself too: I don’t think that the Journal had high standards to judge comics and I thin that it ws completely incoherent. I also think that *my* Journal would sink like a rock after a couple of issues…

“I think Domingos despises him, so I might be reading more into it than warranted. (Yes, I really do respect Domingos’ judgment.)”

Not al all! I read that book ages ago too and I have no opinion now (but I think that Fresnault-Deruelle is a good semiotician; I also need to read Alan Rey’s _Les Spectres de la bande_, by the way). What I said was related to a very important article by Fresnault-Deruelle in _Communications_ # 24 (the two readings of comics: linear and tabular). My problem with it is that Gerard Genette found the two readings, not Fresnault.

I’ve got the Fresnault-Deruelle on my shelf (picked it up super cheap in Montreal) but haven’t read it yet.

Personally, I’d rather have Groensteen’s book as the book on comics than McCloud’s. I thought Groensteen’s Bande Dessinee: Mode d’Emploi would also make a great comics intro book (less scholarly than Systeme).